


Siblings

by orphan_account



Category: EastEnders
Genre: Happily Ever After series, M/M, Mika'il Masood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six year old Mika'il gets into trouble at school and Yasmin tries to help out. (You're probably sick of this pair but they won't leave me alone so you're getting them too!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Siblings

~

 

Six year-old Mika'il sat outside the Headteacher's office, arms crossed, kicking his legs angrily. At the other end of the row of plastic benches another boy sat sending death-glares his way.

The pattering footsteps of a child running echoed down the hall, shouting echoing down behind them. “Yasmin Masood stop running in the corridor this instant.”

Mika'il looked up just as his big sister rounded the corner at the end of the hall and slowed down to stop in front of the other boy. “Is this him?”

“Yas, don't. You'll get into trouble.”

Just at that moment, the teacher following Yasmin caught up and sent angry glares around the trio.

“Yasmin Masood. Go back to class! Now!”

“Or what?!” Yasmin crossed her arms.

“Yas!” Mika'il glanced nervously between the teacher and his ten year old sister.

“Or I'll have to send you to the headmaster,” The teacher threatened.

Yasmin plopped herself down beside her brother, completely unphased by the teacher's threats.

 

The teacher and Yasmin stared. A stand-off.

The headmaster's door opened. “David and...Mika'il.” The headmaster looked between Mika'il and his sister. “Yasmin? Mrs Adebayor?”

“Yasmin should be in my class right now. Cherise and Marc were talking in class. I asked them what was so important that they felt the had to discuss it during class and they mentioned the fight between Mika'il and David during morning interval. When Yasmin heard she ran straight here.”

“I see. Yasmin?”

“Mika'il's my brother.”

“I'm aware, but I think this is between Mika'il and David and me. Don't you?”

“But Mika'il doesn't fight!”

“According to the playground attendants he did,” The headmaster pointed out to Yasmin, daring her to disagree.

Mika'il's face darkened, his voice hushed, “He called my Dads faggots.”

“Except when that happens,” Yasmin chimed.

“David? Is this true?”

“He punched me!”

“Did you get him good?” Yasmin asked her brother quietly.

“His face,” Mika'il shrugged, one little hand soothing the sore knuckles of the other one, still kicking his legs which didn't reach the ground yet.

“David, did you say that to Mika'il?”

“Only cause they are but he punched me first!”

“I think you know we don't approve of that sort of language in this school.”

David shrugged, but he shrank in his seat. “Its just what Dad says.”

“Mmm Hmm. David, Mika'il, I think apologies are in order.”

Both boys glanced at each other, then at the headmaster.

“Now,” He prompted.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

Both said it at the same time. Neither meant it.

“David, if this sort of language is something you're bringing into school from home then I think a letter home is required. Mrs Adebayor, please escort David back to class and tell Mr Wilkinson that David is to be allowed no playing privileges in class for the rest of today. Yasmin, Mika'il, my office please.”

~

That night at dinner when Yasmin's tale reached their ears Syed and Christian sat forwards in their seats. They stared at each other and then at their son.

Christian stopped chewing his dinner.

Syed put down his fork. “You punched someone?”

Mika'il and Yasmin looked at each other. “Sort of?” Mika'il hedged. He bit his lip nervously, one of Christian's habits that made Syed's heart melt. Mika'il was so like Christian sometimes it made his heart melt. At other times it made him despair. This was one of those other times because Mika'il, like Christian, didn't do violence. Didn't have a violent bone in his body. Mika'il would rather be running around playing sport, kicking a football not spending time brawling and worried Syed to the bone.

“What do you mean 'sort of'? Did he just accidentally slam his face into your fist during play time?”

“Morning break,” Corrected Mika'il.

“Not helping,” Syed replied.

Mika'il shrank.

“In Mika'il's defence,” Yasmin spoke up, “He was defending your honour.”

“I think we can just about manage to defend our own honour,” Christian told their daughter. “Alright, out with it. What really happened? This isn't like you, Mika'il and I hope you know your father and I are very disappointed.”

Mika'il shrank in his seat and mumbled something, nursing his bruised hand.

“Mika'il,” Syed sighed. “I can't hear you. Speak up. Your Dad asked you a question.”

“David – the other boy – he called you two faggots,” Yasmin explained and then shovelled more food in her mouth. “This is good.”

“He did what?!” Syed exclaimed. “And don't talk with your mouth full.”

“Sorry,” Yasmin replied, still chewing.

Syed rolled his eyes.

“In fairness to Mika'il,” Christian started, looking at his husband, “That's a pretty good reason.”

“Except that we don't approve of violence,” Syed gave Christian a pointed look.

“Right,” Christian muttered, then cleared his throat. “Your father's right, Michael. Violence isn't the answer. You can think about that while you help clear the table after dinner and then tidy your room.”

“But there's this programme on telly...”

Christian opened his mouth but Syed got there first. “No telly tonight,” Syed read his husband's mind. “And you can help put away the dishes while your Dad and I wash up and if I hear one single complaint you'll have a lot more to worry about then a few extra chores, young man!”

Mika'il nodded, sniffling a bit and cleared a stray tear.

'Young man?' Christian mouthed at Syed.

Syed bumped him with his foot under the table.

Christian laid a hand on Syed's thigh and looked at their son. Seeing his demeanour Christian opened his arms and Mika'il slid off his chair and ran round to his Dad who pulled him up into his lap and gave him a hug. “Mika'il you know we both love you and we love that you want to defend this family. A lot of people don't get that having two Dads or two Mum's isn't anything to be scared of but if we punched someone every time they annoyed us we'd all be walking round with black eyes. Feeling hurt or annoyed when other people say things we don't like is normal but next time don't try and deal with it yourself. Tell an adult. Either a teacher or one of us. Look, why don't you and me take some time out and visit your Mum this weekend? Be nice to have a day out. It'll be something to look forward to.”

“Mum doesn't like me. She's never around,” Mika'il kicked at the air with his feet.

Christian ignored it, this time, as Syed spoke. “That's nonsense. Your Mum loves you and you know it, its just her work's in Pakistan...and she's here at the moment, isn't she?”

“I suppose,” Mika'il pouted.

Yasmin of course had plans. Syed would stay behind and cater to her budding social life while Christian and Mika'il were away – and try and palm some of it off on Amira and Ali.

“So what do you say?”

“Ok.”

“Come on then” Syed prompted. “Eat up your dinner. You too, Yas, It'll get cold.”

~

Lying awake in bed later that night Syed sighed at the ceiling. “I'm worried about him.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Its not like him.”

“No.”

“Maybe seeing Shabnam will help.”

“Maybe.”

“Yas probably knows what's going on.”

“Probably.”

“She's a good sister. She looks out for him, loves him.”

“I know.”

“I'm not convincing you, am I?”

“No,” Christian replied.

Syed sighed heavily. “Figures. Not convincing myself either.”

~


End file.
